


Burning Desire

by almightygwil (elllie)



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018) Actor RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Smut, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 22:54:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29461587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elllie/pseuds/almightygwil
Summary: You and your professor begin to grow very close, and it makes you nervous.
Relationships: Joe Mazzello/Reader
Kudos: 2





	Burning Desire

**Author's Note:**

> Burning Desire // Lana Del Rey

To say you had high expectations for Joe Mazzello was an understatement to the highest degree. Joe Mazzello, or as you better knew him, Dr. Joe Mazzello of English Literature, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at 10:30, English building room 438, was highly adored across campus. From the moment you set foot on your campus two years earlier, the name had been common knowledge. However, you’d yet to see the professor or take one of his classes. 

It was junior year, after all, and your favorite professor in the English department had retired the year before, so why not give it a try? What could it hurt?

“Y/N, you’re going to love him,” Andy swore. “He’s a geek, just like you.”

Your jaw dropped in offense, a pillow from your bed thrown haphazardly at your roommate as she cackled. “I’m not a _geek_!” You squealed, laughing quizzically, your brows furrowed as you stared at her.

“Let’s be honest with ourselves,” she pushed, sharing a knowing look with you. You could only shake your head, laugh still shaking your shoulders as you turned around. 

“Shut up, Andy.”

As soon as you stepped foot in his classroom it was wildly obvious he was _just_ as dorky and hilarious as everyone had made him out to be. His arms flew about wildly as he told a story, students gathered around his desk as they giggled. You just smiled at the sight, finding an empty desk near the front of the room as he goaded them to sit down, laughing to himself as they scattered away from him. Dr. Joseph Mazzello of room 438 was not at all what you expected him to be; his skin was smooth, not yet wrinkled under the weight of age and his auburn hair was vibrant under the lights, a stark contrast to the white you had expected to see.

Joe walked around his desk, humming to himself casually as he picked up the roll. He had been waiting patiently for this class; a class full of returning students and a few new, but mostly English majors, a fact that made his heart soar. And there was you. More than anything, he’d heard about you from Margaret Flores. The now-retired head of the literary magazine had adored you and bragged about you to the rest of the department, leaving curiosity to the rest of the professors. You were, allegedly, the most dedicated student Margaret had ever had (you weren’t sure that was true; the two of you had just always gotten along exceedingly well) and the former editor of the magazine. And now, Joe was the only English professor to have you in a class after Professor Flores had retired and he fully intended to see if Margaret’s claims held up.

Lively, excited brown eyes skimmed over the long list of names. “Alright everyone, let’s get started.” The chatter amongst the students died down and you turned away from the girl beside you, tapping your heel expectantly. “I’m Joe Mazzello. You can call me Joe, or if you want to be on my good side, Dr. Mazzello.” It’s a joke you’d never laugh at if another professor made it and it’s hardly a joke at all, but his expectant gaze over the class makes you snort softly along with the other students. “Let’s get started on this roll, shall we? Where’s Zoey Anthony?” A timid hand raised and he grinned excitedly. “Alright Zoey, what’s your favorite food?”

A long list of students and an even longer list of increasingly silly questions followed and you couldn’t help yourself but laugh as you listened to your classmate’s answers. You watched your professor as a smile quirked the corners of his lips up and you bit your lip as he called out, “Y/N Y/L/N?”

You raised a hand, a tight smile on your lips. “That’s me.”

His eyes found you and he grinned brightly, nodding as he looked at you. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Y/N,” he said. You laughed softly at the crypticism and shrugged softly. “Let’s see...what is your least favorite color?”

Class ended early after he’d made his way through the roll and sped through the syllabus. You packed your bag slowly, waiting for the classroom to clear slightly before you approached Joe’s desk, your bag slung over your shoulder as you smiled bashfully. You caught his attention immediately, an august smile on his lips as you shuffled on your feet. “What can I do for you, Y/N?” He asked softly, papers rustling as he shoved them in his bag.

“I just wanted to formally introduce myself and let you know that I’m really looking forward to this class.”

It’s a greeting you extended to all your professors and one students often extended to Joe, but it felt genuine coming from you. His head tilted. “Well, I’m excited to have you here. I’d like to see what all the fuss was about with Professor Flores,” he teased. You laughed, adjusting your bag.

“She’s all talk, I’m nothing special,” you played back.

“I’ll be the judge of that, thank you.”

Up close, the sight of him offered you the familiar fluttering of your stomach. He was handsome, something you’d seen beforehand, but now you saw it in close proximity, your lips pursing as your eyes studied his face. He smiled, knocking you from your trance. “Well, my next class is across campus, so I should go. It was nice to meet you.” 

Joe grabbed his own bag. “I’ll walk you out.”

You allowed him to walk you to the door, your knuckles white around the strap of your bag. “So, where are you going?” You pried softly, sending him a look over your shoulder as he fiddled with his keys.

“I, uh, _also_ have a class across campus,” he murmured, finding the key to his classroom. You shifted on your feet, mind racing as you wondered if you should continue the conversation or let him go, but he sent a look over his shoulder to ensure you were still there that stuck you to the floor. He turned around to lock the door, a smile playing on his lips.

“What are you teaching?” You asked, eyes wide with curiosity. He glanced at you as he dropped his keys into his bag.

“Freshman English. It’s in the engineering building, for reasons I don’t entirely understand,” he grumbled.

“That’s where my class was freshman year. Flores always said it was so we could find our way around campus,” you giggled, looking over at the professor.

He smiled softly at you, pushing the door of the building open for both of you. “You guys were close, huh?” He watched your smile turn wistful, eyes bright with memories as you thought of the fiery little woman.

“Oh, yeah. I guess she was the first professor I was really ever close to. Y’know, I used to skip lectures and study in her office during hours?” He laughed at your revelation, nodding along as the two of you walked across campus. The August sun was still high in the sky, beating down on you as you pulled your hair away from your neck.

“She definitely got my hopes up for you,” Joe admitted. You looked at him with curiosity. “I look forward to seeing what you can do,” he said softly, slowing down as you did.

You rocked on your heels as you stopped in front of your building. “Well, thank you. I’ll, uh, see you on Wednesday then.”

He just sent you a friendly wave, continuing his walk as you took a breath. This semester was bound to be long.

You were back in the apartment before two o’clock, Andy’s music greeting you as you walked through the door. Your roommate already had books spread about the table, an annoyed grunt falling from her lips as she heard your entrance.

“Nice to see you, too,” you teased, kicking off your shoes. She glared at you as you sat across from her at the table, a positive smile on your face. “How was your first day?”

She groaned again, dropping her head into her arms. “Who let me be pre-med?”

You giggled, kicking her softly under the table. “I thought you loved it.” 

“I don’t,” she sighed, changing the subject as she closed her book. “How was your day?”

You dug into your bag, searching for your syllabi in the mess of other papers. “It was good!” You exclaimed distractedly, exclaiming in excitement when you found the papers you were looking for. “I met Dr. Mazzello and—”

“Oh, fuck, I forgot. What did you think?” You opened your mouth to reply, but she cut in, “Also, don’t call him Dr. Mazzello, you fucking nerd. Call him Joe.” You laughed, shaking your head.

“ _Anyway_ , I thought _Joe_ was really nice.” You raised a pointed brow, ignoring her pleased look. “Flores apparently talked me up, so I’m going to have to work my ass off this semester to keep up expectations,” you complained.

“You realize that you’re allowed to let people down, right?” Andy asked, her eyes tracking you as you stared at her incredulously.

“You’re joking, right? You know I have a compulsive need to be liked.”

Andy cackled, pushing her chair back to stand. “Yeah, trust me, I know. And anyway, Joe won’t push you the way Flores did. He’s easy.”

You stood as well, crossing the room toward the hall, walking toward your bedroom. “I’m not looking for easy, Andy,” you giggled, your friend humming as she trailed behind you into your room. You flopped unceremoniously onto your bed and she followed suit, throwing herself beside you.

Andy fell asleep beside you with little contest in record time, leaving you (somewhat) alone with your thoughts; you were exhausted. With the first day of classes successfully under your belt, you felt better. Your mind was running slowly, bouncing back and forth between Flores and Joe; you missed Margaret, though she was a quick phone call away, but this time of the day, if she were still here, would have been spent in her office running over her still-unfinished syllabus. However, there you were, half-asleep with Andy by your side. But you enjoyed Joe’s company, almost in the same way you had with Margaret, and as you felt yourself drifting to sleep, you wondered whether you’d have that with Joe.

The following Wednesday, you arrived at Joe's class early, much to his surprise. No earlier than you showed up to most classes; a cool ten minutes before the lecture was scheduled to begin, your book was on your desk and your pencil was in hand, scribbling something furiously in your notebook. He stared at you in silence for a moment, unsure of what to say. Not even the other English majors (his most successful demographic) showed up early, and yet here you were.

“Y/N?” He inquired, catching the attention of your bright eyes. “You’re here early.”

It was a question within a statement, so you shrugged, setting down your pencil. “I left my apartment early.” It’s a half-truth, but if he knows it he doesn’t say so, just smiling at you from behind his desk.

The two of you settled in comfortable silence, Joe organizing the papers scattering his desk as you continued writing in your notebook, your eyes flicking up toward him every other minute. Joe could feel a heavy pressure inside his chest, one he was familiar with, and dread settled in his stomach. He should have known. Between your reputation, his anticipation to meet you, and your shared conversation after the previous class, it should have been obvious to him immediately. He had already built you up in his head and somehow, you had lived up.

It scared him. It hadn’t hit him yet, the prospective feelings he might have developed for you, but he could already feel that familiar excitement within him despite himself. As students began filtering into the classroom, you looked fleetingly at Joe again, his eyes already surreptitiously on you. With your lip between your teeth, the two of you were locked in a small stare down, imperceptible to your fellow classmates. Finally, Joe was brought to his senses and he averted his eyes. Heart pounding, you looked down at your notebook and didn’t look up for the rest of the lecture.

***

The end of summer faded into a crisp autumn and your homework was slowly beginning to build up, along with your anxiety. It was how you found yourself in a coffee shop a couple of miles off-campus, your laptop open on the table before you with your head resting in your arms, a much-needed minute long break before you looked back up at your laptop.

“Tough day?” A familiar voice asked.

Tilting your head back lazily, you couldn’t even bother to put on a pretty face for Joe, your eyes hooded from lack of sleep as you groaned quietly. “Tough semester, is more like it,” you grumbled.

He laughed softly, motioning to the seat across from you. You silently agreed, bidding him to sit in the seat as you closed the lid to your laptop. “Anything I could do to help?”

“If you know Professor Mendoza, tell him to kiss my ass.”

Joe threw his head back in a loud laugh, his hands clutching his coffee. You took a quick moment to admire him, his laughter soothing the rolling anxiety in the pit of your stomach if only for a moment before he was calming down, still chuckling slightly. “I do know him, but I’m not sure I’ll be able to properly convey that message.”

You huffed, a small smile creeping onto your face. “You’ll be of no service, then,” you sighed, looking up at him with the softest look he had ever seen, his heart aching for you. That familiar fondness filled his heart and he frowned.

“I can give you some extensions in my class, if you need,” he offered smally, his eyes tracking your movements. 

You gave him a small, slightly sad smile. “Your class is the only one I’m _not_ struggling in, if you can believe it.”

“Y/N, I hate to see you struggle like this. Is there _anything_ I can do?” Joe asked. Against his better judgment, he reached across the table to grab your hand tentatively. 

Your stomach flipped at the simple touch and you smiled softly at him, his presence soothing your anxiety as he held your hand across the table. “I don’t think so, but thank you.”

He looked at you with a small frown. “Well, hey, I was a college student once. If you ever need help with your homework, I’ll try my absolute hardest to help you if you want to drop by during my office hours.”

You didn’t plan on taking advantage of Joe’s office hours, but your history class focused on Latin and Greek roots in the English language, which you were sure Joe would have at least some sort of insight in, so a few weeks later, when you knocked sheepishly on his door and saw that bright smile, you immediately broke into a ramble. “I’m really sorry to bother you, but I’m nearly failing this stupid history class and I’ve gone to my professor’s office hours but he didn’t help me _at all_ and it kind of has to do with English so I thought of you.”

Joe’s eyes widened at your one-breath sentence, pushing himself away from his desk. “Hi, Y/N.”

Tiredly, you laughed. Dropping into the chair across from his desk, you flashed him a pitiful look. “Hi.”

“History 1150? With Professor Isaac?” He inferred, dragging his chair around to your side of the desk. When you nodded, unzipping your backpack to pull out your laptop, he hummed. “Believe it or not, I’ve got quite a bit of experience with this.”

“Really?” You asked hopefully.

“Really. Even if I hadn’t taken it, I’ve had a ton of students ask me about it. You pick a thing or two up,” he grinned smally, watching as you opened your laptop to your history homework. “Right. Where to start?”

Luckily, office hours are rather sparse, especially within the English department, so you and Joe sat in his office without fear of being interrupted. You took notes as he spoke, trying not to get distracted by his ever-moving hands, nodding along with furrowed brows. He was passionate—about a subject that he didn’t even _teach_ —and it made your heart flutter. You tried desperately to keep your heart from racing, your fingers tapping on your notebook.

“It’s all about context,” he reminded, his eyes running down the list of words. “I mean, you know most of these words. Mania, anthro, bio. You’re getting too into your head. Believe me when I say that Isaac is less worried about you knowing the history and more worried about you knowing these roots,” he promised, glancing over at you. When you nodded, his finger reached over to skim the line you had written at the top of the page. “Don’t get anthro and anthrop mixed up, he’s strict about that.” You sighed, rubbing a hand over your eyes. Joe laughed, patting your knee before he could stop himself. “How are you feeling?”

Leaning back in your chair, you looked over at him with a lazy smile. “Better. A lot better. Thank you,” you breathed, resting your chin in the palm of your hand.

“Seriously, Y/N. Anything you need, I will try my absolute hardest to help you with, or I’ll find someone who can. Please don’t let yourself drown,” he insisted.

His sincerity made your heart race and your face softened, brows furrowing. “Thank you, Joe.” It was all you could say, too shocked by his genuinity to think of any other words. 

He was entranced by you, moonstruck by your ability to make him laugh even when you were as stressed as you were. He had been watching it happen for weeks, watching you make others laugh despite your ability to do so. “You are incredible,” he blurted.

He watched your face change, from surprised to delighted to bashful, a flush matching your own painting itself across his face. “Thank you,” you answered smally, a shy smile playing on your lips.

Joe was shocked by himself, standing from his chair and pushing it back around to his side of the desk as he laughed quietly, trying to play off his embarrassment. “God, I’m sorry. That’s entirely inappropriate,” he shook his head. He avoided eye contact by shuffling papers on his desk and you felt a wave of adoration crest over you, watching him from your chair as you shook your head.

“It isn’t,” you denied, shaking your head. “Well, it may be. But it’s fine,” you assured, closing your laptop and slipping it into your backpack. Joe didn’t reply, so you zipped your bag back up, standing from your chair. “Thank you again. I seriously don’t know how to repay you.”

A few debaucherous thoughts crossed both your minds but Joe was quick to push them as far down as they could go, a small smile playing on the corner of his lips as he finally looked up at you. “I mean it. Anytime.”

You felt your heart flutter at his sweet smile, throwing your bag over your shoulder. Quietly, with another soft smile and a shy wave, you slipped from his office.

Dropping into his chair with a huff, Joe covered his eyes with his hand. There was no going back; he was in too deep.

***

Against Andy’s advice and your better judgment, a week after your tutoring session and a day after your history 1150 exam, you knocked on the door of Joe’s office with a plate of cookies, opening it up at his command with a small smile. “Hey, Y/N,” Joe greeted with a sweet smile, looking away from his papers. “What can I do for you?”

Lifting up the plate, you grinned. “I passed my history exam, thanks to you and you only. Thought I’d bring you something to express my appreciation.”

Joe offered an exclamation of excitement at the sight of the cookies, grinning up at you from his desk. “Y/N, you didn’t have to do that,” he said sweetly, brows furrowing.

You shrugged with a smile, setting it on the corner of his desk. “I wanted to. You’ve really been a rock this semester, I just think you deserve a little recognition.”

Joe’s chest felt like it was about to cave in as he looked at you, an oblivious smile overtaking your face. He had it _bad_ and this was only making it worse, a smile growing on his lips as he stood to be nearer to you. In front of you, he leaned against the desk and looked directly into your eyes when he said, “You really are incredible,” if only to see your shy smile again, to see that embarrassed little nose scrunch. It made him grin.

“This was supposed to be me flattering you,” you huffed slightly, drifting a little closer without really meaning to. You were close enough for him to grab your hips, to pull you between his legs, and Joe felt his fingers twitch. He entwined them.

“Why not both?” He teased, smiling at you with the tilt of his head. “I mean it, Y/N. Flores was right about you. You have been visibly distressed most of the semester and you’re still making time to make me cookies, and you’re still pulling one of the highest grades in the class.”

“Joe…” you breathed, your ears warm.

“You’re my best student, Y/N. You just...amaze me. Completely. Every single day.”

Flustered, there was a moment of silence before you looked back at Joe, holding eye contact as he stood from his place on the desk. He took a step forward, closing the distance between you as you took in a sharp breath, the tension heavy on your shoulders as the two of you watched one another closely.

“Tell me to stop,” he said, less as a plea and more as an attempt to save face, but you had no intention of doing so, shaking your head as his fingertips brushed yours, entwining your fingers.

“I don’t want to.”

And Joe didn’t bother fighting you, his other hand cupping your jaw to bring your lips to his. When they met, your eyes fell closed, your free hand gripping Joe’s waist with a tight hold. You melted into him, your stomach flipping repeatedly as he kissed you, squeezing your hand tightly as his other slid from your jaw to the back of your neck, breathing in deeply as he slipped his tongue into your mouth.

You moaned quietly, parting your lips to allow him inside. Joe pulled his hand from yours to wrap an arm around your waist, humming against your lips. This was what you both had been waiting for and he was having a hard time reeling himself in, holding you tightly against him as he kissed you, the passion tangible between the two of you.

You pulled away to take a deep breath, searching for oxygen as Joe trailed spongey kisses down your jaw toward your collarbone, nipping at your skin as you moaned in surprise. “Jesus, Joe,” you breathed, your free hand twisting in the short hairs on the back of his head.

He pulled back, both of you breathing heavily as you looked at one another, trying to come to terms with what you had just done. There was a thick, heavy silence as you held one another, looking into each other’s eyes until you bit your lip, your eyes innocent as you stared back at him, making Joe groan.

“What?” You asked, surprised.

“You’re so sexy and I don’t even think you realize it,” he huffed, tugging you a little tighter to him.

You gasped and laughed a little, your eyes wide. “Joe!”

“It’s true,” he laughed, leaning forward to press another kiss to your lips. 

You hummed against his lips, pulling back and pressing your forehead against his. “This is bad.”

“Really bad,” he agreed, nuzzling your nose with his before he pressed another kiss to your lips. “We’re making a mistake.”

“I know,” you breathed, holding him tighter and kissing him back, moaning as he tugged on your lip. Your heart raced at the contact, stomach still churning from the change in direction, a heady mixture of fear and anticipation and adoration for Joe, your admittedly dorky professor who seemed nothing short of delectable now that his tongue was laving over your pulse point, teeth sinking into the skin as you released a shaky moan. And yeah, it really was a bad idea. But it didn’t matter. To either of you.

Joe spun around, gripping your hips and setting you on his desk, spreading your legs so he could fit himself between them. One of his hands wrapped itself around your waist and the other cupped your face to kiss you again, making you moan against his mouth. Your legs wrapped around his hips, holding him as close as he could get. His hand slid from your face to your chest, groping you enthusiastically over your shirt as he nipped at your bottom lip.

He pulled away again, desperate brown eyes searching yours. Panting, he said, “I’m sorry.”

You shook your head, pulling him tighter with your legs and groaning lowly. “Keep going,” you breathed out. “God, Joe, just keep going.”

He took that as his cue and his hand slid under the hem of your skirt, palm flat against your thighs as you loosened your hold on him to spread them, exposing more skin to him as your skirt slid up your thighs. Humming at the sight, he tossed you one last confirmation glance before he cupped your pussy. Your back arched into him and Joe couldn’t help the deep moan that rumbled in his chest. Even through your panties, he could feel how wet you had grown and he moaned, listening to your tentative sounds, making him grin. “God, you’re soaked,” he whispered, awe echoing in his voice as he pushed your panties to the side.

You bit your lip as his fingertips brushed your clit, moaning quietly as he began to rub circles. He watched you closely, his eyes hooded with lust and your hips rolled against his hand. Your face was warped in pleasure as you watched Joe, whose other hand flipped up your skirt to expose you to him, both of you moaning at the sight of his fingers rubbing your clit. “More,” you begged, eyes flicking up to his, wide, tinged with an innocence that makes him growl. 

Quickly, he pulled his hand away from you to tug down your skirt and panties, pushing you back slightly. You leaned back on your palms, spreading your legs and grinning down at him. In turn, Joe smirked at you, tossing your skirt to the side to lean over you, fingers spreading your wetness before he slipped one inside of you. Your loud moan echoed through the office, a smile still tugging at your lips as he thrust his finger in. “Dirty girl,” he admonished playfully, his voice thick. You only moaned again, quiet and giggly and completely disbelieving that your late-night fantasies were being fulfilled as he shook his head. “Letting your professor make you feel good. It does feel good, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” you whimpered, a second finger sliding inside as his thumb rubbed your clit. Your head fell back, hips rolling against his hand. “Joe,” you whined. “Want you.”

He groaned, forehead falling to rest against yours as his fingers moved faster. “I want you too, baby, but we can’t.” His fingertips brushed your front wall and your hips stuttered, a needy whine falling from your lips as your desperation grew. “We can’t.” The tension between you two was almost suffocating, even through shared kisses and the way he thrust his fingers into you. 

“Please,” you cried, muscles clenching around his fingers. He continued to rub your front wall and the feeling in conjunction with his thumb rubbing your clit made stars dance in your vision. “Please, please, I want you,” you rambled, your hips rolling.

He kissed you, hard and passionate and sloppy, licking into your mouth hotly as you breathed in sharply, eyes fluttering closed. “We can’t, okay? Not here. Can I make you come on my fingers instead?”

You both knew that the answer to that question was a resounding _yes_ , especially considering how close you were growing. When it came to Joe, you would take whatever you could get, and with how good he was with his fingers, you found that coming was going to be absolutely no issue. You nodded, humming a confirmation as you stared into his eyes. His fingers thrust into you with newfound vigor, an obscene wet sound echoing throughout the office as you struggled to keep your moans quiet. He kissed you, swallowing your sounds; you found yourself hurtling toward orgasm, your eyes rolling back behind closed lids as you kissed Joe, smacking lips and heavy breathing the only sounds you could focus on. 

You would have died if you could have seen yourself, naked from the waist down, lips swollen, and desperate to come, your professor between your legs, but it felt too good to even remember how taboo it was. It was just you and Joe, both insanely turned on as you coasted on the edge of orgasm.

“C’mon, you gonna come for me?” He asked, voice raspy and eyes dark.

“Yes,” you gasped.

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you whined, eyes rolling back as your orgasm crested over you, your arms giving out, the only thing keeping you upright being Joe’s arm around your waist.

“What a good girl,” he gasped, his fingers slowing as he worked you through your orgasm. You barely heard him, too busy rocking your hips, your eyes forced closed and your teeth clenched in order to keep yourself quiet, though you were sure you were doing a piss-poor job of it. “God, you look so fucking pretty when you come,” he praised, and you whined, wrapping an arm around his neck to drag him into another sloppy kiss, his fingers slowing before he finally pulled them out of you, your breathing heavy as you pulled away from him.

He chuckled, his hand raising to stick his fingers in his mouth, cleaning them of your wetness. He moaned at the taste and you felt another rush of wetness, forcing yourself to look away from him as his eyes fluttered closed. “Jesus Christ,” you croaked, your throat dry.

He laughed, leaning down to pick up your skirt. He was silent as he helped you stand on wobbly legs to slide it back up, smiling easily and watching you tuck your shirt back in. You took a steadying breath, looking him up and down before frowning. “Can I…” You motioned to the tent in his pants and he wrapped an arm around your waist, shaking his head and kissing you once, nuzzling your nose with his own.

“I have a lecture in just over fifteen minutes,” he replied, kissing you again. “Don’t worry about it.”

“But you—”

He cut you off with a sharp look and a dazzling smile, cupping your face. “Don’t worry about it,” he emphasized. You huffed. “But thank you for caring.”

And then he kissed you again, so deeply that you felt dizzy and you clutched at his sides, your head spinning so much that when he pulled away, it was all you could do to whisper, “Oh, okay.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “You never fail to amaze me.” You flushed, laughing bashfully and looking away from him. His thumb stroked your cheekbone. “Thank you.”

You couldn’t hide the shock on your face, your mouth open as you stared at him. “Shut up.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re very well-spoken?” He teased.

You ignored his jeering and said, “Thank _you_. Holy shit, thank you,” you shook your head, looking at him in awe. “You are seriously insane.”

“The poet of her generation,” he giggled, pulling you closer to kiss you once again. “You need to get to class. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

You bit your lip and nodded, and you walked to class with a dopey smile on your face.

However, by the time you got home, reality had set in. Anxiety crept through every single one of your veins, leaving you sluggish and distracted as you kicked your shoes off by the front door. Andy was dancing around the kitchen, cooking dinner, and you smiled thinly at her when she exclaimed in excitement. “Hey! I think I made too much, you want some?”

Clearing your throat, you shook your head smally. “Nah, I’m not feeling okay. I think I’m going to go take a nap.”

“Are you okay?” She asked quietly, setting down the spatula to turn around and look at you, but you just smiled again, though you knew it wasn’t nearly as convincing as you hoped.

You nodded, beelining toward your bedroom in an attempt to avoid any more questions, sighing in relief once you closed the door behind you. You dropped your backpack beside the door, your stomach sick as you crossed the room to dig through your drawers. You pushed down your skirt and pulled on a pair of underwear, your feet dragging as you walked to your bed and crawled under your covers. The sun had already nearly set, leaving your bedroom dark as you faced the wall.

What were you thinking? Of course, you adored Joe. You had since the moment you had met him, and you truly appreciated the help he had given you, but you had made a serious misstep in thanking him. _When had you_ ever _thanked someone in that way?_ You thought bitterly. _Should you have done this the whole time? Should you have gotten on your knees for your neighbor when he offered to help you carry in your groceries?_ You felt sick. A lapse in judgment had put many things in danger. Not only was your experience in Joe’s class compromised, but had anyone heard you, your scholarship was in danger. The only reason you were able to _get_ an education could have been revoked, and you felt tears build in your eyes. What were you hoping for? For you and Joe to be a couple? The thought made you scoff.

Were you even hoping for something? No, you realized. You weren’t thinking at all. The thought of going to Joe’s class in the morning made your head pound, so you pushed the thought away and closed your eyes, desperate to fall asleep.

***

You were late. By your standards, anyway. Usually, you were, at minimum, ten minutes early, but when you took your seat, class was only seconds away from beginning. Joe looked at you, waiting for any sort of acknowledgment from you, but you avoided eye contact, digging through your bag to grab your notebook and a pencil, looking disheveled. He frowned. 

He had kicked himself all night for not grabbing your phone number before you left, and he had hoped to get it from you before or after class, but you could barely even look at him as he taught, avoiding eye contact at all costs and staring at your notebook more than you looked at him. He wondered, briefly, if you were embarrassed. Had he made you uncomfortable? Pressured? Did you think he hadn’t thought about it before, and that it was a one-time thing for him? His mind worked in overdrive and he found himself distracted the whole lecture, unable to even make it through his lesson plan, eventually letting class out early. He opened his mouth to get your attention, but you hadn’t even bothered putting your notebook in your bag, only gathering your things in your arms and slipping through the door.

He couldn’t lie and say that it didn’t sting. He would have assumed that there would be a little trepidation, but he never could have imagined that you would have jumped straight to pretending he didn’t exist. Joe sat at his desk, frowning heavily and tapping his pen against his unfinished lesson plan. How greatly he wanted to wrap you up in his arms, hold you close, and dispel all your fears, but he didn’t have your number, and his paranoid side feared that sending you an email would only serve to incriminate him, which left him alone and stewing in his classroom, trying to think up a way for him to find you outside of class.

He had another lecture across campus, so he didn’t have much time to waste as he locked up his classroom and began to travel across campus. He was just walking out the door when someone called his name.

He spun around and, despite his increasingly foul mood, he smiled and raised his hand in a wave, footsteps slowing. “Hey, Andy,” he greeted. “How are you?”

She grinned as she caught up to him. He and Andy had gotten close when he’d taught her the year before; she struggled with English since it wasn’t her first language, and she had spent much time in his office, desperate for help. “I’m good,” she returned easily, nodding. “Did you just finish 3300? I think my roommate has that around this time,” she rambled, looking ahead as they began to walk across campus.

“Yeah, actually. Who’s your roommate?”

“Y/N! She came and saw you yesterday, right?” Joe felt as though he had been punched directly in the chest, looking at the small girl at his side in surprise.

“Yeah…” he trailed off, and Andy looked back at him with furrowed brows. He knew Andy was clever, and he knew that his strange attitude was just another piece of a puzzle to her, a puzzle that was slowly forming a picture in her mind. Had anything been out of the ordinary with her roommate the night before, and his attitude was off as well, especially since you and Joe had seen each other, Andy would have already been putting together a story in her mind, so he plastered on a fake smile and turned to her. “Why do you ask?”

She looked at him, her face still twisted as though she were trying to figure something out, and she shrugged. “I was just thinking. She brought you those cookies, right? She made like, four batches trying to get them right, even though the first three were still good. I’m not really complaining, because now _we_ have a ton of cookies, which is cool.”

Joe laughed and nodded. “Yeah, she dropped some off.” And then, in an attempt to push the attention off himself, he asked, “Is she doing okay? She seemed off in class today.”

Andy watched him from the corner of her eye, shrugging smally. “I don’t really know. She was acting really weird when she came home yesterday and then she went to bed at like, six o’clock. I barely talked to her,” Andy admitted. “which is weird, because usually when she’s like this, we would eat all the cookies she made and watch a movie, so the day must have been really bad.”

They both know the conversation has steered in a direction it should have stayed away from. This was no longer a former student and teacher, it was now a concerned roommate who knew something (what that was, she wasn’t sure yet, but she was getting somewhere) and someone she knew was involved.

“Oh,” he said simply. 

She sighed, rolling her eyes in a moment of lost patience. “Did something happen?”

There was no more playing aloof on her part, but he still tried for a moment. “What do you mean?”

She scoffed, stopping in her tracks. He did the same, sighing softly and looking at her. “You know what I mean. I would get if you had to reject her or something, but you’re acting weird too, so I know that something happened and I want to know what it was.”

“Can we not do this here?” He hissed, looking around. The campus was nearly empty, and no one was really paying attention to them, but Joe felt panic rising in his chest. He nodded toward the engineering building. “I’ll cancel my class, let’s go.”

And so, in his empty lecture hall, Andy pulled up a chair and listened to him talk, only cutting in to ask questions, and her best friend’s behavior the night before began to make sense. She leaned back in her chair, nodding along with Joe’s desperate rambling, his chin in his palm and his other gesturing wildly. They talked quietly, hushed whispers echoing throughout the lecture hall, and Andy finally sighed as Joe finished speaking, searching the young girl’s face for advice. He almost felt ridiculous, turning to a twenty-year-old for her input, but she knew _you_ , and even more than he felt ridiculous, he felt as though he would explode if he didn’t talk to you.

Andy was silent for a moment, looking away from Joe. “She’s scared,” she finally nodded.

Joe scoffed. “And she thinks I’m not?”

She glared at him, rolling her eyes. “I’m sure she thinks you are, asshole,” he looked at her in shock but she brushed over it, saying, “but she’s worried about herself, as she should be. Obviously, I don’t know exactly what’s going on in her brain, but I can guarantee that’s at least part of it.” Andy huffed. Joe was silent, surprised by her outburst, until she sighed again. “I’ll talk to her, but you need to talk to her, too.”

“Actually, I was kind of hoping you could help me with that, too.”

By the time Andy got home, you were set up at the kitchen table in a considerably better mood, though you were still followed by a shadow tugging under your eyes. You were scribbling notes in one of your books, foot tapping against the tile. At the sound of the opening door, you glanced up at her before looking back to your homework. “Hey, so I saw Phil on campus today and he’s—”

“Were you going to tell me you hooked up with Joe?” She interrupted.

You coughed, eyes wide as you looked at her. “What?”

“I just...want to help you, Y/N. And I know this isn’t an easy situation but these are the kinds of things I want to know, so I know why you’re not talking to me, and so I can be there for you.”

Warmth rushed to your face and your heart pounded. “He told you?”

“I figured it out,” she breathed. It was a half-truth, but she’s trying to keep Joe from receiving more of your wrath than she already knows he’ll get.

“Jesus Christ,” you huffed, tossing your pen down. “If you know, who else knows?” You laughed humorlessly, shaking your head. “I mean, he told a student? Andy, I’m fucked.”

She frowned, sitting in the seat beside you. “No, you aren’t. What’s the issue here? I doubt Joe told anyone else. The only reason he told _me_ was because I brought it up.”

You looked at her in shock. “ _What’s the issue?_ Andy, he’s—he’s a _professor_. And with my scholarship, I can’t take risks like this. _Ever_. I only have it because of Flores and she’s not here anymore. I don’t have the freedom to have accidents, especially not to this magnitude. It was a mistake, and I’m going to put my head down and pretend it didn’t happen, and so are you.”

Andy looked at you with a small bit of anxiety and she smiled bashfully. “Except that we aren’t doing that.”

You groaned. “Why not?”

“Joe is miserable, Y/N,” Andy sighed, leaning against the table. She reached out for your hand. “You’re both in shambles. You need to at least talk to him.”

Rubbing at your eyes, you gazed up at her sadly. “Andy...I can’t go talk to him. I’m _embarrassed_.”

She gave you a knowing look. “He wants to see you. I’m not going to force you to go see him, but he’s going to be in his office all night, and I think you need to talk to him.”

***

With a racing heart and sweaty palms, you knocked on the door. 

This was the last place you wanted to be, but you knew you had to talk to him. You would never forgive yourself if you kept yourself away from him. “Come in!” He insisted blithely, and you could feel your stomach churning as you opened the door and closed it behind you.

At the sight of you, Joe fell silent, his hands no longer shuffling the papers over his desk. You felt your anxiety burning in all of your nerve endings, true, white-hot panic rushing over your body as you looked at him. Your pathetic plan to avoid Joe until the end of the semester had lasted a great twelve hours, and you should have known better. Andy was sharp and had a sense of determination to match your own, and you knew Joe was going to go searching for his own answers. There was no way she wouldn’t have figured it out at some point and he never would have let you get away with staying away from him. You just assumed you would have had more time.

“Hi,” he broke the silence.

“Hey,” you breathed out. “I—” You had nothing to say, seizing up under his gaze. You had thought the whole way to campus about what to say, but you had fallen flat, hoping the sight of him would inspire a speech within you. Instead, you blanched. “This is stupid. I should go.”

“It’s not stupid.” He shook his head. “I’m glad you’re here.” With your back pressed against the door, you couldn’t help but _feel_ stupid, and there was another long moment of silence before he said, “Can you sit down?”

Still quiet, you crossed the room and sat in the chair across from his desk, his eyes catching your every move. When you sat, you groaned, pressing your palm against your forehead. You could feel a headache coming on, the past two days making your head pound. “Why?” You asked, looking up to him with a raised brow. “Why did you tell Andy? Why can’t you let it go?” Across his desk, he stared at you like he couldn’t believe you were asking that question, face bewildered, words lost, and you sighed. “We both know that was a—a mistake. We can’t do this.”

He frowned. “That’s what you think that was? A mistake?”

“You don’t?” You scoffed. He stared back at you. “Joe, there’s no way. I could lose my _scholarship_ and you could lose your _job_. It was a spur of the moment thing and now it’s this, like, dark cloud threatening my education and—”

“That wasn’t a spur of the moment thing for me, Y/N. And I didn’t think it was for you, either,” he said, confused. You stared at him. You had to admit, you had assumed it was a mistake on Joe’s end, and now you felt stuck. The anxiety you had felt about where your relationship stood had faded, just slightly, but the thought of your scholarship just made your heart jump back up your throat. You hadn’t spent three years at this school only to not be able to pay for your last year—or worse, get kicked out of the school—with your degree just out of reach just because you couldn’t keep it in your pants.

“It wasn’t?” You asked quietly, fingers falling to play with the hem of your shirt.

“Of course not,” he sighed, standing up. You did the same, though you weren’t exactly sure why, but you were grateful you had when he walked around the desk to grab your hands. “Was that what it was for you?”

“No,” you admitted quietly, looking into his eyes.

He was silent for a moment before he took in a sharp breath, leaning down to press his forehead against yours. “Y/N, this is something to me. _You_ are something to me. And what we did, that meant something to me, too. I know this is scary, but I’ll wait. A half a year isn’t so long.”

You groaned, moving to lean against his shoulder. “I don’t want to wait for you,” you admitted in a mumble. “I want you now.” Joe felt a sense of shock cloud his mind; he had hoped that you had feelings for him too, and maybe a part of him had prematurely assumed that was the case, but to hear you say it aloud almost made a shiver run down his spine.

He wrapped an arm around your waist and rested his free hand on the back of your head. “I want you now, too. But if waiting is what it takes for you to feel good about being with me, I’ll wait.”

You didn’t answer, giving yourself a moment to absorb the information. _He wanted you too_. The thought almost made you squeal, but you were being held back. By your scholarship, and the fact that Joe could lose his job. You weren’t prepared to deal with those consequences, but you couldn’t imagine wanting Joe, knowing he wanted you too, but not being with him. You groaned, fingers grasping his sides and he sighed, shaking his head.

“I hate this,” he whispered.

“Me too,” you admitted, closing your eyes. “I feel like there’s no easy answer.”

“Because there isn’t,” he laughed humorlessly. “Either I have you, and your education is in danger, or you’re safe but we aren’t together, and I don’t like either of those options.”

He held you a little closer. “I don’t want to not be with you,” you said, and he stayed silent, his hand rubbing soothing circles against your back. You leaned back to look up at him, and your heart ached at the sorrow in his eyes. It became clear to you that Joe was struggling just as much as you were and you hated that. You wished there was some way to ease his anxieties, but both of you knew there wasn’t, so you sighed, wracking your brain for a solution. “I don’t know,” you finally said, a response to what both of you are thinking: _now what?_

“I don’t know, either,” he says, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. The two of you stood, unable to let one another go, because neither of you knew the next time you would be able to do it.

***

“That fuckin’ sucks, dude,” Andy shook her head, taking a swig of her beer. Across the living room from her, your chin resting on your knees, you shrugged. 

“Yeah, but what can you do, y’know?” You sighed, lips quirking in a sad smile.

“What _are_ you going to do?”

You pursed your lips in thought. You and Joe hadn’t discussed that, but you knew you couldn’t be together. The time to drop the class was long past, which left you and Joe pining for one another in class. “Business as usual, I guess.”

Business as usual left you feeling blue, especially as cool November days spun you into biting December nights. The constant grey sky seemed to be a perfect metaphor for your mood, dismal and leaving everyone that saw it equally unhappy. You managed to get ahead in a few of your classes, which lightened your coursework, even just slightly, lifting your spirits the smallest bit. 

Joe felt as though he were drowning. He could tell you were struggling, the dark circles under your eyes only deepening as the semester furthered. Every moment of every day was spent desperately wishing he could reach out to you, wondering how you were feeling, wondering if he could get away with a trip to your apartment. You both knew he couldn’t, despite how desperately you want him with you, in need of his soothing presence. He knew how to calm you down, and you loved Andy dearly, but it seemed all she ever did was wind you up. You spend weeks walking around with your head down. It’s a constant cycle of waking up, going to classes, spending six hours in the library, or a coffee shop, or a diner doing your homework, only to go home, eat dinner, and fall straight into bed.

The monotony was nice. It kept you busy and kept your mind off Joe most days, which was exactly what you needed. The routine helped keep you ahead on homework, but you dreaded the day you ran out of homework to do, nowhere for your mind to go but Joe. You saved those thoughts for nighttime.

You finally started to feel okay again. Not necessarily normal, but okay. You didn’t dread waking up in the mornings, and you didn’t have to force yourself to eat. You started coming home a little earlier to watch TV with Andy, and you appreciated that she didn’t ask you how you were feeling. Lectures were still hard. There was no way they weren’t going to be, but you show up just as class starts and you sit in the back so you’re able to slip out just as he ends class. He hides the way his eyes linger on you, and you pretend you don’t notice, and you feel as though your new normal is pretending: pretending you weren’t affected by Joe and pretending things weren’t different and pretending that you weren’t struggling.

He thought that when you finished his class, he would return to some sense of normalcy. In a way, you thought the same. However, winter break is spent mourning for both of you. You both travel home, where you struggle to handle your family’s questions about school without snapping at them, and where he tries to grade finals before the deadline set in place for all faculty. If only he could see you, you mused one morning, staring at yourself in the mirror. You looked like yourself, but tired. Almost gaunt. It shouldn’t hurt so much, the end of something that had hardly even started.

Somehow, you made it out of the break without your family getting to the bottom of your foul mood, and Joe’s family spends his whole trip chastising him for how tired he looks, insisting that he get more sleep. He just smiled.

Going back feels different. Refreshing, but like a closing note. As it should, because you suppose it is. Your last semester. It’s more of a relief than anything; the thought of nearly being done inspires motivation within you. Your workload is quite a bit lighter this semester, which leaves you much less stressed as compared to the semester before. 

Aside from your workload, you felt ready to get out of school, but more than that, you had spent all of winter break preparing yourself to come back. In four months, you would be done. In four months, you’d have a diploma, and you’d be free from your worries about homework and schedules and scholarships. In four months, you could have Joe. 

Until then, you would put your head down and work.

Andy acted as sort of a liaison, and you both pretended that you didn’t realize. She spent at least an hour in his office on Tuesdays and sometimes Thursdays, and she had instated nightly dinners in your apartment. You didn’t love talking about Joe, and some days she allowed you to forego the conversation, but usually you at least give her a little bit of an idea of what was going on in your head, just because you knew she was telling Joe.

He lived off of those meetings. They got him through his weeks, usually. He understood why you couldn’t come to his office, and he respected your decision to stay away, but he needed to know how you were. How your classes were, how you were holding up, if you thought of him. If you knew, you would understand, because you were in the same boat. Tuesday dinners were your favorite. They were the nights you would hear Andy’s second hand stories, the jokes he had been saving, the updates on how he was handling school.

And, of course, “He says he hopes you’re okay. He misses you a lot.”

It was always enough to get you through another week.

The semester went this way, slower than usual. You weren’t taking a full course load, which empties up most of your days. It left a lot of time for you to think, to daydream, to wait. You didn’t want to wait, but you figured that if you had made it this far, you could make it until the end of one semester.

***

The gown felt light on your shoulders but you almost couldn’t fight the urge to unzip it, the hot sun warming the thin satin. Your fingers itched at your side and you threw a sidelong glance over at Andy, who caught your eye and threw her head back, pretending to snore. You pursed your lips to hide your chuckle, shaking your head as she covered her mouth, shoulders shaking in a laugh. 

The ceremony had been going on for far too long. You were on the last speech, but the dean had been talking for upwards of twenty minutes. The April sun had been beating down on you for over two hours and you sighed, rubbing over your eyes. 

The diploma in your lap felt like a bookend, and you clutched to it tightly, knees bouncing in anticipation. You had been waiting for this day for four years, but you suddenly couldn’t wait for the day to be over. Everyone around you shifted in their seats, so you began to do the same, twisting in your seat slightly to look over at the faculty.

Your eyes found Joe almost immediately, his face twisted in displeasure, and you couldn’t help your snort. He shifted in his seat, tugging at the cords around his neck.

Smiling smally, you turned back in your seat. Just the sight of him calmed you a little, and you settled back in your seat, your heart fluttering in your chest. It had been a long semester. A long six months, where you had thought of this day every possible free minute you had. 

You could have planned it a little better, maybe. Definitely. Many scenarios had filled the time you had spent imagining the day you could finally be with him; where would you be? What would you say? What would _he_ say?

It almost sent you into another daydream, but the dean’s booming congratulation cut through your reverie and then there was cheering, and you thought you would just have to return to the fantasy later.

You hadn’t planned on being dragged to dinner with Andy’s family, or a couple hours long Skype call with your own, or the ‘celebration’ Andy had supposedly spent forever planning, which just meant the two of you piling together on the couches in the living room with an almost astounding amount of alcohol. The thought made you laugh, but you had spent all semester waiting for this day—you could make it one more.

The next morning, you slipped out of the apartment before Andy woke. It was hard to tell whether your stomach was restless because of your hangover or your anxiety, but it hardly mattered. The sun beamed down on you, significantly warmer than the night before.

You hoped he was where you assumed he was. Of all the ways you had imagined this going, none of them had begun with you emailing him, so your chest tightened at the prospect of him in his office. 

The building was a bit too air-conditioned when you stepped inside, the halls barren as you made your way to the familiar office. And by the grace of god, you heard him puttering around in there, humming and shuffling papers and cursing quietly, and you grinned, your hand resting on the doorknob for a moment before you knocked quickly.

Confused, his voice lilted, “Come in.”

You let yourself in, your stomach rolling as you caught sight of him. Your imagination, though vivid and far-reaching, never could have lived up to the way he looked when he caught sight of you, wide eyes and messy hair and an almost disbelieving smile.

“Hey,” he greeted breathlessly.

Quietly, you said, “Hi.” The two of you stood in an anticipatory silence for a moment before you said, “Got a minute?”

For the first time in what felt like forever, Joe beamed. “For you? Always.”

With a shy smile, you shut the door.


End file.
